


Let's Kiss Afresh

by apple_pi



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: mcsmooch, Ficlet, M/M, Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-13
Updated: 2010-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-07 05:48:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apple_pi/pseuds/apple_pi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Give me a kisse, and to that kisse a score;<br/>Then to that twenty, adde a hundred more;<br/>A thousand to that hundred; so kisse on,<br/>To make that thousand up a million;<br/>Treble that million, and when that is done,<br/>Let's kisse afresh, as when we first begun.<br/>~Robert Herrick, "To Anthea (III)"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Smirky Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> Ratings vary, from general audiences to explicit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Rosamundeb, who gave me the first line. Thank you!

"I wanted to kiss that... that... _smirk_ off your face!"

John blinked at Rodney.

Rodney's face was bright pink - his whole _head_ was bright pink - ears, cheeks, neck, probably his scalp under his thinning hair, John mused.

"Uh," John said.

Rodney's hands flapped. (John thought of agitated birds.) "You just looked so smug and, and, irritating, and it was either hit you or..." his voice trailed off a little. "Well. Yes. I'll just be going now, shall I?" He pivoted on one heel, stumbled, staggered, recovered and made for the door.

"Wait," John managed, following.

"What?" Rodney snapped, whirling to face him again. "What, what, what? Are you going to hit me? Because if you are, feel free _not_ to, because, well, I'm sorry I, I, I sexually - harrassed you. I'll go watch that video Elizabeth has again if you want me to, but really you know that's just stupid, it's not like -"

John grabbed his head (by the ears, and they were warm, still flushed pink) and kissed him.

Rodney made a startled squawking sound (really, John thought, Rodney had never reminded him of birds _before_ tonight, but it was getting hard to avoid) and lurched forward into John, off balance, hands clutching at his shoulders. His mouth opened in earnest a second after that, however, and John forgot all about any nascent comparisons to poultry. Rodney kissed him back _hard_, fingers digging into John's deltoids, tongue wet and slippery and seeking, lips mobile and surprisingly soft, breath huffing out as he made a muffled, excited sound into John's mouth.

John broke away, gasping a little, needing air.

"What the hell was _that?_" Rodney demanded. His mouth was wet and red, eyes bright hot blue, expression distinctly pissy. He hadn't let go of John's shoulders, though.

"It was either hit you or..."

John lifted one shoulder and smirked at Rodney.


	2. Cheesy Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blame this on Summertea. :-)

"Oh, my god," Rodney groaned through a mouthful of creamy cheesecake. "Oh, my _god_."

His eyes were closed, jaw working as he chewed. It was... gross. Definitely... sort of... gross.

"This is so good," Rodney managed right after he swallowed, and before he crammed another enormous forkful into his mouth. His face was flushed with pleasure, tiny noises of satisfaction humming out his nose when he couldn't manage to speak at all, too busy demolishing the slice John had managed to sneak out of the mess hall and down to the infirmary. "Mmmmm_mmmmmmm_," Rodney moaned around the last mouthful, and swallowed again, eyes opening to half-mast. He lifted the fork and licked it clean, drunk with happiness and cream cheese. "Oh, god, I could _kiss_ you," he murmured, eyelids falling again.

John leapt out of his chair so fast it fell over with a clatter; Rodney _oof_ed as John clambered onto the bed and over him, but his mouth tasted like surprise and cheesecake, and his hands (after a fluttering, hesitant moment) settled firmly onto John's back.


	3. Porny Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fullygoldy said, "Up against the back of a door always does it for me," and, well, I have to agree.

They'd been sleeping together (or not sleeping together, the eternally 15-year-old segment of John's brain supplied, snickering) for way too long for this to keep happening, except it did - Rodney seemed hell-bent on causing John to stroke out from an overabundance of hot, desperate, fantastic sex. John wasn't sure he was complaining - okay, he was sure he _wasn't_, ever, going to complain - but it was startling. Sometimes John wondered just how long it had been since Rodney'd had regular sex, or whether he had a secret stash of Viagra somewhere, or maybe all those things about male pattern baldness and testosterone were just true, because: wow.

John asked, once - murmured it into Rodney's neck after Rodney had fucked him into and through a mind-wiping orgasm, kept fucking him until John was boneless and pliant and sprawled on the bed, fucked him and come into him with a noise that sounded like pain and then rolled him over and kissed him soundly before relaxing abruptly onto the mattress and John. John said, "Seriously, you're always horny. What the hell is with you?"

Rodney had managed a shrug - a twitch of one shoulder, telegraphing a whole dictionary of gestures - and yawned. "Well, I think about sex a lot."

"What do you mean, a lot?" John asked, curiosity piqued. _Every_ guy thought about sex a lot.

"All the time," Rodney said. Another shoulder twitch, and one hand looped lazily for a second. "Pretty much. Kind of - underneath thinking about other stuff."

"Huh," John said, and thought about Rodney's big, fast brain and his big, thick cock. Good god. No wonder he liked surprising John with shanghai sex in the closets, in his quarters, in Rodney's quarters, in the gym, in the bathroom, in the (locked) labs, in John's office. All that thinking meant he could be ready to go any time, anywhere.

John didn't mind.

Just now, for instance, Rodney had yanked him into a supply room, locked the door and shoved John up against it. He started kissing him hard - frantic, wet, needy - and got both their pants open. Slapped John's hands away, murmuring negatives into his mouth. Got both their cocks into his hand (that was big, too, square-fingered and careful, rough or delicate but always careful) and worked them fast. He'd shoved up into his fist, against John's cock, kissing him, moaning into John's mouth and then moving back, looking down (John looked down, too). Rodney's cock slid up past John's, bumped his belly wetly; John shoved up, too, just to see his cock, red and wet with pre-come, poke up through Rodney's fist. Rodney kissed him again, then kissed his jaw, his neck, his ear - sucking, biting kisses that made John grab at Rodney's arms, made his head fall back against the door with a thump as he jerked helplessly under the onslaught of Rodney's mouth, Rodney's tight, merciless hand.

When John came, Rodney pressed his mouth over John's, catching all his little noises, licking them away. Rodney came a second later and groaned his own broken-voiced pleasure into John's mouth, in turn.

And when it was all over - when John's knees were shaking like over-cooked spaghetti, and his dick was twitching, slick with come, then softening and tender, sensitive in Rodney's now-gentle hand - Rodney was still kissing him. Wet and lush and lazy, his free hand lifting to touch John's jaw, fingers trailing down his neck. John shivered and made some small sound.

Rodney took it, kissed it away, kissed John until neither of them could breathe anything but this.

John might stroke out from it (he thought a little later, Rodney buckling his belt, tugging the thigh holster back into place), but he couldn't really complain. Wouldn't, even if he had any breath left to complain with.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cupidsbow said "Sealed with a kiss." And - I don't know. The boys just felt cranky. But I had a little fun anyway.

John stared at his boots. They were dirty, and the smooth, varnished wood of the trade platform looked even brighter and cleaner next to the scuffed leather. He couldn't believe they polished it even back here, behind the curtain where no one ever came. Unless they were being chastised in private by their pissed-off teammates.

"John, Rodney," Teyla whispered. "You are both being very rude."

There was no point in looking at her, since he knew exactly what expression she was wearing: the Disappointed Mom look. Maybe Elizabeth had been helping her with it. John felt his jaw jut out stubbornly. "I'll kiss you and Ronon and the Hal - Hral - leader guy, but I'm not kissing McKay."

"Oh as if I _would_," Rodney hissed furiously, and without lifting his head very much, John could see his tightly folded arms, the way his whole body was practically vibrating with reawakened resentment. "Forget it, Teyla - I'm not kissing him and he's _definitely_ not kissing me. We'll just go back to the jumper and wait for you and Ronon."

Teyla shifted slightly and the next thing John knew she had a tight, agonizing grip on his _ear_ and his head was being pulled irresistibly up and around. He could see Rodney - hear him, too, going "Ow ow ow ow ow okay this isn't funny ow ow ow -" and he could see Teyla's angry expression. Not really very mom-like after all, although Rodney was whimpering something about his grandmother towing him around by the ear, so maybe - Teyla twisted, and John said (too loudly, probably) "_Ow_, Jesus, Teyla, come _on_."

She had him good, though, and Rodney, too; they blinked at each other, hunched over, wincing, and John figured his face was probably as scrunched up in pain as Rodney's, so there wouldn't be any teasing later about that.

"So will you be the one to tell Elizabeth that we did not get the herbs Dr. Keller wanted because you were so stubborn?" Teyla asked, jerking Rodney's ear minutely, so that he whimpered again and his whole face squinched up even more. "Or will you tell her that we have no greenstuffs to eat for at least another month, until the _Daedalus_ is due back, John?" He tried to brace himself but it _hurt_, and he made an undignified noise (but probably it wasn't a whine, he tried to tell himself, cringing) and opened his mouth to tell her to _back off_.

Except what he said was, "No, no, _jeez_, let go, Teyla, you can let go, I'll kiss his stupid mouth if I have to, okay?"

And Rodney, who was nodding (tiny, tiny nods, because it looked like Teyla had a pretty good grip on his ear, too), said, "Fine, yes, and for your information, _Colonel_, my mouth is just as smart as the rest of me. Ow! But I'll do it, I'll do the stupid trade kiss thing!"

Teyla let them both go and John straightened cautiously, glaring impartially at Rodney, the ground, the soft, dusty folds of the privacy curtain, Teyla (okay, Teyla's shoulder, because: no way was he meeting her eyes). Rodney glared right back, fingering his ear. It was bright red, and John reached up to touch his own ear, gingerly; it felt hot.

"Come along, then," Teyla said. She sounded almost serene again, but there was steel under it, and John shuffled after her, elbowing Rodney aside so he'd have to go last. He could feel Rodney's murderous scowl on the back of his neck.

"We are ready, Hralata," Teyla said, smiling at the waiting trade negotiator. Ronon shifted slightly where he stood, giving John and Rodney a dirty look.

All of them had to recite some words in Ancient, and sign a piece of paper (the Hralata placed it carefully in a pocket folder, and John wondered suddenly if, somewhere in the Pegasus Galaxy, someone made Trapper Keepers, and also metal filing cabinets and manila folders), and then it was kissing time: the Hralata kissed them all, firm and moist, right on the mouth; then Teyla kissed each of her teammates; then Ronon kissed Rodney and John; and then John finally looked at Rodney.

Rodney had his chin up mulishly, but he grabbed John's head and planted one on him before John could get pissed again (god! Rodney was _so stubborn!_). John flailed for a second - the P-90 bounced on its sling, bumping his hip - and then it was over with.

John stepped back and didn't wipe his mouth. It seemed like it might be rude, and god forbid they have to perform the whole stupid ceremony over again, or worse yet sour the whole deal.

"Will you stay for refreshments?" the Hralata asked, but Teyla caught John's eye (she looked amused, damn her, and his ear still hurt) and declined politely. "Next time, then," the Hralata said, and six laborers used common, garden-variety wheelbarrows to help them get their purchases back to the edge of town. Once the laborers were gone, John uncloaked the puddlejumper. They loaded it up and flew silently back to the Stargate, through it, home. (John didn't have anything to say; Teyla was quiet behind him, and Ronon had his mouth full of an energy bar or three. Rodney flipped open his laptop the minute he was seated in the copilot's seat and didn't look up until he stalked off the jumper in the bay.) John got on the radio and arranged for a detail to come unload the goods. He made Teyla tell the marines twice which herbs were for the kitchen and which ones for the infirmary, because no good could come from that screw-up.

In his quarters after a lightning-quick debrief, John had just unbuckled the thigh holster and set it aside when the door chimed. He expected Teyla, but it was Rodney on the other side of the door.

"Yes, Rodney?" John asked, keeping his voice sugary and overly patient.

"Whatever," Rodney said, and pushed his way in. John turned to face him, letting the door slide closed behind him. This should be annoying. "Listen," Rodney said.

John waited, eyebrows raised.

"Just - stop being so irritating," Rodney blurted, frowning at him.

John folded his arms. He'd lean back against the doors - really you needed to lean to get the full effect - but the last time he'd tried it, they'd opened and he'd fallen backward into the hall. Not the image he was trying to project, here. "I'll get right on that," he drawled.

"You can't - we can't -" Rodney stopped and gave John a searching look. "This is why we weren't supposed to start sleeping together," he said.

John deflated instantly. "Oh, fuck," he said, and slouched across the room to sit on the edge of the bed. "I know."

"We can't take our arguments in here out there - right?" And goddamn him - god _bless_ him, John thought with a mental eyeroll - he really sounded unsure.

"Yes, Rodney," John said. He looked up. "I can't even remember what we were fighting about," he offered. God, they were lame.

"You wanted to know how I got so good at blowjobs, so I told you, and then you called me cheap, and then I made a crack about Captain Kirk calling the kettle black, and then you got dressed and left my quarters," Rodney replied instantly. John covered his eyes with his hands. "Oh, uh, was I not supposed to..." Rodney said, and John heard him come closer.

"Maybe we should just never talk," John said, dropping his hands and looking up at Rodney.

"Probably," Rodney said, and dropped onto the bed beside him. "For what it's worth, I don't think you're the slut of the Pegasus Galaxy," Rodney added.

"I don't think you're cheap," John forced himself to say.

They sat next to each other in silence, and it was only mildly painful - just a little like chewing on broken glass, probably, John figured.

"So that Hralata guy had some terrible breath," Rodney said finally.

"God, yeah," John replied.

Rodney pushed him over and crawled on top of him. "Wanna have sex?"

John ran his hands over Rodney's back. "Sure."

Rodney looked at him speculatively. "Too early for a joke about you being easy?"

John scowled up at him. "Let's go back to not talking."

Rodney sighed. "Okay," he said, and lowered his mouth to John's.


End file.
